


you're my angel, come make it alright

by A_Confused_Kitten



Series: Promises [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Saves Cas from the Empty, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Episode AU: s15e20 Carry On, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Protective Dean Winchester, Romantic Fluff, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, all of the "nope the last episode didn't happen" tags, inherit the earth doesn't happen in this, reverse of cas raising dean from hell, screw canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Confused_Kitten/pseuds/A_Confused_Kitten
Summary: “Okay,” Sam says, his nose buried in the book Rowena had sent them. Because as it turns out, attempting to direct someone how to cast a difficult spell while they lack a copy of the spell itself doesn’t work particularly well. “According to the lore, the only way to open a rift leading to the Empty is to will it open, by thinking of someone who’s trapped there.”“That’ll be your job, Dean,” Rowena says, as though that isn’t clear. As though anyone else is even an option. The moment Rowena said they would have to find him in the Empty and bring him back, there was an unspoken agreement.Dean was the one rescuing him.That’s never been a question.~~Major spoilers for s15e18: Despair and ignores canon after that.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester
Series: Promises [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023187
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	you're my angel, come make it alright

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES:  
> I don't know about canon, but for fic purposes we're saying that Chuck only snapped humans, so angels and demons are still doin' their thing. So Sam, Dean, and Jack are the only ones on Earth, because Chuck pulled a Thanos on humans, and because I can't think of a way for Jack to bring back Cas and I really wanted to see Rowena be some kind of vodka aunt for Jack, Hell is locked shut, but not snapped.
> 
> This can also be read as a sequel to my fic silent promises, whispered prayers, but stands on its own.

Dean hates him. 

The world is spinning and his wings are _burning_ and his grace is smothered and exhausted but none of that matters because _Dean hates him._

“Don’t do this,” the hunter had said, because why would Dean love someone like him?

Why would he love _him,_ the one responsible for the angel’s fall, for the civil war in Heaven. The one who was too weak to fight off the leviathan, who was only useful against the Darkness as the devil’s vessel.

How could anyone love him? Especially someone with a soul so beautiful?

But none of that matters, because he’ll never be good enough, never _was_ good enough, not for someone like Dean Winchester.

And he’s right to hate him, of course he is.

He’s _hurt_ him, hurt the one he was meant to protect, meant to save, and Naomi’s voice rings in his ears, and his hands are stained with blood and Dean stares back at him desperation in his eyes and-

None of it matters, because Dean _hates_ him, and in the darkness, that is all he knows.

“Dean-”

“Not now.”

“Dean, you _need_ to stop-"”

“Not now, Sammy.”

“Dean! You _need_ to stop. When was the last time you ate something? Or the last time you slept?”

And isn’t that the question? His eyelids are heavy and his body aches and he’s so, so damn tired, but his mind is a battlefield of blood and ash, of darkness and tears. Because it’s been five days since Castiel, since _Cas_ died, and Dean needs him back.

Because Dean needs Cas like he needs air, and without him, his heart is slowly suffocating. Dean’s drowning in the loss of something he never even got to experience, in the depths of Cas’ misty ocean eyes, because he’s still not back.

And he can't just _stop._ He can't just sit and do nothing while Cas is trapped in a place they know nothing about, and know as the Empty.

“I can't just _stop!”_ Dean shouts, and Sam goes still. “Cas is still stuck in the Empty, and dammit Sam, I can't leave him there. I-” And his voice is breaking, and none of this is fair, but what in their lives has been? 

He’s not asking for a happy ending, he doesn’t need one. He doesn’t need a picket fence and a green lawn and good kids or the domestic life so many people know. All Dean needs is Cas, and he won’t stop until he’s back. Won’t stop until that familiar trench coat is in his sights, until he can meet blue eyes and ruffled hair and finally say-

No.

Dean won’t stop until his angel is back in his arms. 

He doesn’t know if he even can.

“I can’t leave him there, Sammy,” Dean says, and his voice is broken, just as shattered as he feels. “After what he said- I can’t just leave him there. He can’t spend eternity never hearing it back-”

Sam smiles, a tired and bitter look, and Dean hates how well it fits his brother’s face. None of them deserved this. Not Sam, not Cas, and maybe, not even him. Not if Cas is to be believed, and Dean still can’t force himself to go against his last thoughts. Because Cas-

Cas wouldn’t lie, not about something like that.

“We’ll find a way to get him back, Dean,” Sam says, and exhaustion seeps into his voice. “But he wouldn’t want you to kill yourself in the process-”

And-

No.

Sam didn’t see the smile on Cas’ face, as he sacrificed himself to the Empty just so Dean could live. Didn’t hear the waver in his unshakable voice as he said those three words, the words Dean never dreamed could be true.

He didn’t see the sad, sad look in those sapphire eyes, because even though Cas died happy, he knew. He knew his love could either save them or pull him down into the deep, and despite that, he still chose to love _Dean_ with every fiber of his being.

Castiel, angel of the lord, chose to die for love, knowing it’d mean an eternity of nothingness, and Dean isn’t going to stand by and let that go. 

“I _loved_ him, Sam!” And the words come out as a whisper, but they feel like a scream, and Sam falls silent. “I need him back because I don’t know how to live without him. I- I loved him, and I’m not goin’ to stop until I have him back, because he doesn’t deserve to die over a mistake _I_ made.”

 _I loved him,_ he said, and for a Winchester, that never meant anything good.

Mary Campbell died in fire, and Jessica had followed in her footsteps, starting this downward spiral into madness. John Winchester drove himself to the brink of the earth to find a creature, neglecting everything but his goals.

Castiel lost his wings and sacrificed himself more times than Dean can count, and yet, they’ve always taken him for granted, and look where that got him?

 _I loved him,_ Dean had said, and that had sealed the deal. A photograph buried in the ground, a kiss on the dusty crossroads, and it was done. It’s a curse of the Winchester family, and Dean can only hope Jack doesn’t inherit the family luck.

“I loved him, and he never got the chance to hear it back. Do you know what Cas said to me? Before the Empty took him?” Because his angel was selfless and noble, and dammit, if that didn’t make it hurt worse. And his eyes flick to Sam’s, because his brother needs to understand this. “He said that the one thing he wanted, was something he would never have, and dammit Sam, he’s had me for all of these years.”

And that’s what hurts the most. It’s not the fact that Dean never got to say goodbye, or that Cas had _smiled_ as he vanished, or even the words that were forever burned into his mind. 

It's not knowing how long they could have cherished this. How long they could have been there for each other, in a way they each thought was impossible. It’s the scathing thoughts he’ll never escape from, the ones that chant _you’re not good enough_ or _you don’t deserve him._

“We’ll get him back,” Sam repeats, but somehow, it’s different. Softer, maybe, and Dean wonders if he’s thinking about all the lines he never crossed. About Jess and Stanford, about the broken archangel he had tried to mend.

About back when it was just the two of them and a worn journal, and the most dangerous thing they ever hunted were demons.

Sometimes, Dean wishes that was still their life. Yearns for the simplicity of driving across the country in the Impala, of finding a hunt and dealing with it, of dinners and motel rooms, because that was easier than living through all of this. Easier than losing so many people, and yet-

He would do it all again, because if he hadn’t done it in the first place, then he’d never have met his angel.

“I don’t care what it takes,” he whispers, “I just need him back.”

And for the second time in what feels like years, Sam pulls him into a hug. 

There’s nothing left to say.

“Rowena has an idea!” Jack announces, the slightest hint a smile in his voice, even if his expression is grim. And Dean doesn’t know what else he should expect, because the kid just lost his _father._

And losing a parent at that age, it- it isn’t good. Dean can say that from experience.

“Hello, boys,” a familiar voice is saying, and in a time like this, Rowena’s accent is a comfort in the way nothing else has been. Because on earth, it may just be the three of them, but at least they’re not alone in the world. “I hear you’ve gotten yourselves into a problem, haven’t you?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. He wouldn’t call it a _problem,_ per say. Dean would call it an emergency, but his opinion on the matter is more than a little biased. Castiel is one of them, a part of their makeshift family, woven from blood and tears, and they don't leave one of their own behind.

Not if there's a chance in hell they can get them back.

Rowena is, quite literally, their last chance in Hell at saving Cas. Dean wants to laugh at the irony. The Queen of Hell helping a pair of hunters and the son of Lucifer save the life of an angel, but Rowena never has been one to follow conventional standards.

“Cas is stuck in the Empty,” Dean says, the words tugging at his heart. “I need him back.”

The line goes quiet for one minute, two, and he wonders if Chuck took her out of the story, too. Then, when she finally speaks, it feels like she's watching them, her eyes that familiar purple. “That's a tall order, Dean Winchester.”

“Please," he says, and his chest constricts. He wonders if this is what it feels like to drown, to sink into the freezing depths, and watch as the light slowly fades away, because you're too damned tired to fight anymore. Because if the light is gone, how do you keep the strength to keep moving forward? But Cas wouldn't want him stuck underwater, so Dean pushes with everything he's got. “You gotta tell me how to bring him back.”

Rowena sighs, the same way Crowley used to, what seems like years ago. She sighs in the way that means resignation, but Rowena likes them, or at the very least, she likes Sam and Jack, so Dean doubts that it’s the way it seems. “Fine, I’ll help you get your angel back, _but_ you’ll have to gather the ingredients. Hell is locked down, after all.”

And isn’t that great? Heaven and Hell had the doors slammed shut, trapping their allies and caging their enemies, and they’re the last people on earth. Great! God forbid the Winchesters had anything go their way-

Oh wait.

He already did.

“What do you need us to find?” Sam asks, a soft look on his face. And Dean knows he’s determined to save Cas, hell, all of them are, but he still doesn’t _understand._ Doesn’t understand what it’s like for someone to confess their deepest happiness to you, only to sacrifice themselves for you. Doesn’t understand the pain of never being able to say it back.

“The grace of an archangel, for starters,” Rowena says, and Dean can _feel_ her smile from here. “Jack’s, of course, will work, thanks to his father. Some simple herbs, Samuel, you can take care of gettin’ those.”

“And me?” He says, because Dean refuses to sit around and wait. 

Rowena sighs. _Again._ “You need to find somethin’ special to your angel. And it can’t be just _anythin’_ special, it has to have a _connection_ to him, since you’re goin’ to have to find him in the Empty, and you’re goin’ to need a tether once you’ve gotten to him.”

She doesn’t say if. 

Dean doesn’t know if it’s out of confidence that he’ll find Cas, or pity in the case he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know what would be worse: finding a way to the Empty, without ever laying eyes on Cas, or having to live with this hole inside his chest.

“So it can be anything?” Dean asks, because he has to be sure. Because he has to believe that everything will be okay in the end, because if he doesn’t, he’ll fall apart. “Anything that Cas is- Cas _was_ attached to?”

“That’s right.” 

So maybe something in his room? But his angel was never particularly sentimental, and he never got the chance to be. Always rushing around with the best intentions at heart, trying to keep as many people safe as he could. A true Winchester, in everything but blood.

Before, Dean would say that stupid trench coat he always wore, but that was gone, too. Every physical thing that reminded him of Cas is gone, leaving him with nothing but memories and promises of what could have been. 

Except-

The mixtape. 

Cas had played it, he knew that. He’d _heard_ the music drifting from his room, softly and sweetly, and whenever Dean poked his head through the door, Cas was smiling. Smiling at Dean like he was the _sun,_ and now, he knows why.

He remembers having to stop himself from asking Cas to dance with him, because in those quiet moments, it felt like there was no one else in the world. No problems they had to fix or monsters they had to hunt, or even people they had to save.

Those moments were his peace, his shelter from the raging storm, and Dean isn’t going to stop until he has them back. Until he can take Cas’ hands in his own, pull him close, and say _“Dance with me?”_

“I think I have something,” he says, and hope starts to whisper inside his head. Because they have a plan now, and they have their goal, and if there’s one thing Winchesters are good for, it’s finding a way to do the impossible. 

The spell is, theoretically, simple.

It’s not too different from opening the rift to the Apocalypse World, though, the thought of that place has his heart caught in his throat, imagining burned wings and too-bright eyes and desperately _hoping-_

No.

He can’t let any of that matter. Not right now.

Not when they finally have a chance. 

“Okay,” Sam says, his nose buried in the book Rowena had sent them. Because as it turns out, attempting to direct someone how to cast a difficult spell while they lack a copy of the spell itself doesn’t work particularly well. “According to the lore, the only way to open a rift leading to the Empty is to will it open, by thinking of someone who’s trapped there.”

“That’ll be your job, Dean,” Rowena says, as though that isn’t clear. As though anyone else is even an option. The moment Rowena said they would have to find him in the Empty and bring him back, there was an unspoken agreement. 

Dean was the one rescuing him. 

That’s never been a question.

The plan is simple, despite all the possible ways it could go wrong. Simpler than anything else they’ve done recently. Combine some uncommon herbs, a little blood, add Jack’s grace, and there you go, a rift to the angel graveyard.

“Now remember,” Rowena continues, the sound of flipping pages echoing through the phone, “We don’t know what condition your angel will be in, or even if he’ll be fully conscious, so you’ll have to be quick. Once you have him, think of that special little somethin’ you’ve found, and before you know it, you’ll be back, all in one piece.”

Jack nods at her words. “Try not to make a lot of noise,” he says, almost absently, “The Shadow there hates noise, especially since I woke it up.” He smiles, and Dean’s known the kid long enough to read between the lines. _Please bring him back,_ his smile says, _I miss him._

Dean nods, and then with a quick gesture, the glow of Jack’s grace fills his vision.

 _Castiel,_ he prays, _I don’t know if you can hear this, but I’m comin’ for you. I’m comin’ for you, you stupid angel, because there’s not a chance in Hell I’m leaving you trapped for eternity. Because I love you, too, you damn idiot._

 _Cas, if you’re listening to this,_ he thinks, and somehow, the words don’t feel so hollow anymore, _then hold on._

And for a moment, it seems like it didn’t work. The air still feels the same, cold and empty and bitter, and something inside him starts to crumble and-

When Dean opens his eyes, all he can see is darkness. The ground below him, the sky above him, as far in each direction as he can see, it’s all just _darkness._

And this is the eternity his angel was promised. This is the mockery of _peace_ Castiel is supposed to have, after everything he’s done, because even after all of his mistakes, Cas has done _everything_ he could to keep people safe, and he deserves more than this. 

And Dean is going to make sure he gets it. 

Treading quietly, he stumbles through the dark. Prayers rattle around inside his head, and he wonders if the so-called _Shadow_ can hear them, too. If his intertwined hope and desperation are a beacon to it, a neon target painted on his back.

Deans keeps praying anyways.

His prayers could be a beacon to Chuck himself, and Dean would still pray, would still close his eyes and press his palms together and pray, like he’s never done in his life, if there was even a chance of waking Cas up.

So he keeps walking. He keeps walking and searching and even if it seems like nothing in this place is ever going to change, he refuses to give up.

After what seems like hours, he finds a body, curled up in a deep slumber. _Cas!_ He wants to call, but no, the body belongs to a stranger. 

Then another.

And then another. 

Dean wonders how many of Heaven’s soldiers and how many of Hell’s minions were put to rest in this place. 

Hundreds, maybe even thousands. _How many people will you pass before you give up?_ A voice whispers in his mind, cold and cruel. _How many people will you walk away from, leave to rot here, because they aren’t important._

He tries his best to ignore it, but it doesn’t take long for the words to slip past his defences. 

How many of their allies are trapped here? People like Gabriel, who was killed by the very family he sought to protect. Who died so they could escape from a stronger archangel he had no chance of beating, not once, but twice. Or someone like Crowley, who was a pain in their ass at first, but slowly, became something of a friend. Who _killed himself,_ to trap Lucifer in another world, after years of doing things for his own good. 

Why is Cas the only person they’ve tried to save? Why is he the only one important enough to bother trying to get back, compared to the dozens of people who gave up their lives for them?

 _Because he’s Cas,_ he thinks, and Dean knows that’s true. Because no one else has stuck with them as long as he has, through all of their darkness and struggles and the challenges they’ve faced. _Because he’s Cas and-_

Dean sees him.

The familiar coat breaks him out of the trance, out of the downward smile, and then Dean is running. Running towards his angel, who’s form is far too still. Running towards the person he can’t live without, because that’s who Cas is to him. More important than food, more important than water, more important than air, because without him none of that matters.

Dean drops to his knees by his side, and the moment he hits the floor, he’s pulling Cas close. Holding him tight, like he’ll never let him go. “I love you, too, you idiot,” he repeats, and Cas seems so small like this, so human.

It’s time to get the Hell out of this place.

 _Think of that special little somethin’,_ Rowena had said, and Dean does. 

He thinks of the old mixtape, of the worn label and crooked handwriting. He thinks of humming to his favorite songs, as he hears their melodies from the next room. He thinks of listening to the music as they travel from place to place, no matter who was with them.

Dean thinks of holding an angel close and singing Led Zeppelin, of dancing with the man he loves without the threat of death hanging over their heads. 

Dean Winchester thinks of happiness, and then, the Empty surrounding them dissolves into the bunker, dissolves into home and comfort and everything they are supposed to have. 

Because Castiel is here in his arms, and it doesn’t matter if they’re on the stairway to Heaven or the highway to Hell because he’s _here,_ and Dean can’t be bothered to think about anything else. Not Chuck, not Amara, not the _millions_ of people who are no longer here. 

Cas is back, and all he can do is smile.

“Cas?” Jack says, and Dean realizes that he’s still sitting on the floor, that his brother and his kid are staring at him with growing smiles. “You did it!”

And then Jack is on the floor with them, because he’s _just a kid,_ and Dean shifts so he’s holding Cas in one arm and Jack in the other. “I’ve got you, kid, I’ve got you,” he says, and quietly, he feels tears against his shoulder. 

Sam looks down at them with a smile, and if his arms weren’t already full, Dean would pull him right down here with them. As it is, he settles on glaring. _Get down here before I find a way to make you,_ the look says, and Sam laughs. 

And then all four of them are on the floor, and Dean smiles. His bones don’t seem so heavy anymore, and his heart isn’t trapped in a cage, and he’s no longer suffocating.

His family is here, no matter how broken it is, no matter if Cas is still asleep against his chest, and that’s all that matters.

He’s sitting by himself, when Cas wakes up. It’s quiet, only a few hours after they escaped the Empty. It’s the comfortable kind of silence though, his thoughts accompanied by soft music and Cas’ gentle breath.

“Dean?” A tired voice says, and when Dean looks down, Cas is blinking up at him. “Is this real?”

Those words tear into his chest like no other, but still he smiles. “It is.” He says, but no, that feels wrong. “We are.” And then he’s pulling Cas to him, and softly, lovingly, presses a kiss against his lips, and Cas is humming against him, the one that means contentment and hope.

“Dean, I-” Cas trails off, letting his head fall against Dean’s shoulder. _His angel is shaking,_ Dean realizes, and he doesn’t press. All Dean does is let Cas hold on tight, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and resting his head on top of Cas’.

 _Don't know what I'm gonna do about this feeling inside,_ the music sings, it’s voice peaceful. _Yes it's true, loneliness took me for a ride_ _._

And suddenly, the moment is perfect. Listening to a song he loves, holding Cas, against his chest, running his fingers through dark hair. It’s a peaceful moment, and maybe that’s why it’s perfect.

He sits back, taking a deep breath. Then, Dean offers a hand. “Dance with me?” He smiles, and Cas is smiling, too. 

“Always.”

Cas’ body fits against his perfectly, and dancing with him is like nothing else. It’s a sunny day with no clouds in the sky. It’s watching the stars with a lover, and smiling, because you know they’re the one. 

_Enough's enough, I've suffered and I've seen the light,_ the song says, and Dean smiles. “Cas?” He says, and his partner smiles up at him. “I love you, too. You know that, right?”

Cas nods. “Of course, I know that. You _saved_ me, Dean. I- I didn’t think anyone ever would.”

Dean tugs him closer, and they’re just swaying in time to the song, dancing to their own beat. Choosing their own path, because that’s what they’ve always done. It’s what they’ll always do. “You _gripped me tight and raised me from perdition_ and saved me from Hell, Cas, I don’t know how to live without you.” He shudders. “Of course I was goin’ to come for you, darlin’.”

And they stand there for what seems like hours, just holding each other and whispering sweet words and quiet promises.

 _This is home,_ Dean thinks, a smile on his face, _this is the ending we deserve._

**Author's Note:**

> working title: destiel fix it take two  
> working summary: screw the cwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.  
> song used: angel by aerosmith
> 
>   
> I started writing this as soon as I finished crying over the finale, because first of all, no. I could go on a rant about why the finale felt to so wrong, and if anybody in the comments asks me to, I will do it-
> 
> Our characters deserved so much more than what they were given, so this fic is for anyone who's fighting to accept themselves as who they are, or thinks what they want is something they can never have, because you are so much more than that. That's what this weird, pushed together family that this show has created is all about, or at least that's how I see it. Taking your doubts and finding a way to overcome them.
> 
> Sorry for the overly emotional note, and thanks for reading everyone!


End file.
